He's mine
by Syntia13
Summary: BW. The side of Rhinox you'd never suspect, and probably wouldn't like to know. SLASH.


_A/N: Ok, so, this is not, I repeat, NOT what I really think of Rhinox, Rattrap or Dinobot. I really don't know where did this come from. But since it's here... It's R/RT slash, also RT/D slash mentioned. Nothing graphic, rated M for safety. Mostly, Rhinox ponders on 'story of them'. Enjoy._

**He is mine**

--

What a day. Ravage appearance, capturing Megatron, escape of Megatron, and nearly being wiped off the time line. I'm tired, really tired, but before I go to bed, I take time to install a really complicated lock on the door that lead to the room I picked for my new quarters. No, it's not a precaution. It's more of a... test.

I lay down and close my optics. Do you want to know what of today's events bothers me most?  
A kiss.  
No, I'm lying.  
A word.

I caught Rattrap when the explosion tossed him in the air, and he did something so very much like him. 'My hero', he breathed, kissing my cheek. I dropped him immediately, scowling. The others thought it was kind of an inside joke, (which it actually was, but never mind that), and Rattrap thought I was angry he kissed me in public.  
But what really stung me, was the simple, single word. 'Hero'.

You see, I have no right to be called that. A hero is someone who does everything he can to save others' lives. And I've done the exact opposite. I've let someone die. Namely, I didn't save Dinobot. I could have. I had the tools, and the knowledge; a few welds and an energy transfer, and he would be here right now. But instead, I've said it was too late and watched the life escaping him, even though the look of despair in Rattrap's optics was killing me.  
Dinobot looked up at me just before he died. I think he knew I'd lied, and he also knew why.

Because of Rattrap.

_My_ Rattrap.

------------------------------------

I was wounded and alone on the battlefield, working my way toward our camp, when something nearby moved, and that's how I've found him. A small, badly wounded bot with predacon insignias on his forearms. He was looking at me, but I don't think he actually saw me; there was nothing lucid in his gaze.  
Now, if I was fully functional, I _might_ take time to fix him and take him prisoner, but as it was, I was not going to risk my life for a Pred. I put my gun to his chest to end his suffering, but doing that I've poked his hand, and a predacon symbol flickered - and changed to a maximal one.

I took time to check his programming, and he was a Maximal. A traitor, most probably, but Maximal still.  
During next few days, I was constantly cursing the moment I've decided to take him with me. He wasn't really heavy, of course, but he was delusional, crying out names and warnings, and I wasn't in my best either.

To make long bitter story sweet and short, we've somehow made it to the camp, someone checked his data, and I stopped regretting I didn't shoot him.

He was a spy. He'd spent half a war on the enemy's side, passing information and sabotaging whatever he could reach. Which was almost everything. Every time some crucial factory exploded, every time some freaky gun pointed at us didn't fire, it was thanks to him.  
They've even given him a medal after the war. Try and imagine what he said to that.

But anyway, I dropped by to check if he's recovering all right, wished him good luck in the future and left. It would have ended right there, if he didn't come to me one evening to thank for saving his life.

It might have also ended right there if I had known then what I know now.  
When you live with the enemy as long as he did, pretending to be one of them, it's impossible not to pick up some of their habits. And Predacons have their own way of saying thank you. They don't say it, they return the favor. And they also have a very specific way of dealing with stress.

When he walked in, I was half-lying in my chair, looking - and feeling - exhausted and miserable. I guess he figured out I needed something to cheer me up, cause the next thing I knew, he was climbing up on my knees, and reaching for my chestplate. I wanted to protest, I really did, but he started kissing me, and I was lost.  
His kisses are short and sweet, and there are always so many of them, and by the time you receive the third, you want thirty more.  
I couldn't resist his kisses.

Much later, when I knew him better, I understood what his motives that night had been, but it was too late for me. Cause by then, it was already firmly set in my mind that Rattrap - is mine.

And I've damn well earned him too. That day on a battlefield was only the first time I've saved him. We fought together after that, and, well, it was me who had experience in front line fighting. More than once he would (have) get himself killed if it wasn't for me. But the biggest battle I fought over him was after the war ended.

Me, I had no trouble with the peace. My first job was a mechanic, and mechanics are always wanted. But what in the time of peace can do a guy who spent his life lying, pretending to be someone else, sneaking into restricted areas, shooting, and blowing things up?

I didn't turn him back from the way leading to crime. I slaggin' dragged him away, by the scurf of his neck, kicking and screaming all the way.

He was bitter about that for a very long time, and no one knows how to be bitter as he does. He only forgave me few months later, while we were watching flesh-news. It was about a big robbery on one of asteroids. The thieves had been 'killed while escaping'. Rattrap didn't say a word when the camera swept over the faces of his would-be partners. He waited patiently for the end of news, shut off the screen and came to me.

"My hero", he whispered between kisses.

We never got bonded. It didn't occur to him to even think of our relationship that way. As soon as he get the job in mines, he set up to conquer all single sparks within reach. I truly believe he managed to do this. But I knew then that I shouldn't be concerned about that, and I was right. The other bots were coming and going, but I was the one he kept coming back to. That status quo remained till Optimus offered me, and, after I've asked, Rattrap as well, a job on his ship, and we landed on this planet.

What the Pit did he see in this brute?  
Well, he was tall, he had a vocabulary, and he had a sword.  
I only have one of the three.

Oh yes, Rattrap threw his usual anti-pred talk, convincingly enough to fool the others, but I knew better. He was drooling inside.  
For a moment it looked like he would shake off it, when Dino-breath almost got me squished under a rock, but he forgot about it surprisingly fast. Yeah, he was still rather protective about me, but more and more time he was spending with that... Pred.

They understood each other so well, they were a really great team, and they just wouldn't shut up about how much they hated each other.

Right.  
I've never lowered myself to checking if they didn't come back from the patrol about, ah, let's say... half a mega too late, or sniffing for the smell of ozone, or even asking, so I don't know for sure if they've ever merged.

But knowing Rattrap, and the Predacons, oh yea, they did. More than once.

I could forgive Dinobot stealing Rattrap from me, but not the fact that he didn't slaggin' _care_ for him. He'd almost killed him, for Primus's sake.  
I can almost see the scene.

'Well, yes, I did return to Megatron, and I wanted to gut you, but I've changed my mind. Can I come back pretty please?' And he would stretched, just a little, exposing these damn well shaped lines of his. Rattrap welcomed him back with his arms opened. And the funniest thing is, no one else noticed a thing. They are both wonderful actors. Were, in Dinobot's case.

Which leads me back to the start of my thoughts. 'He lived a warrior, and died a hero.' Yea, you've always had a way with words, Optimus. Rattrap is a hero. It's said on the medal he'd got. A War Hero.  
I used to be Rattrap's Peace Hero.  
And now I'm someone short of a murderer. All because of a bot who is still grieving after my victim. Or so I thought till today.

I stare at the ceiling, listening for the light footsteps under my door. I don't hear them.  
Instead, I hear a quiet noise of the handle being turned.  
The door stays closed, not surprisingly. I've locked it, after all. I want to be left alone.

The lock I've used is a really good one. I've made it myself.  
I close my optics, and start to count silently.

1...2...3...4...

It took him entire six nano-kliks to pick it. He slips into my room. "What a day, huh?" he whispers.  
"Leave me alone, Rattrap," I sigh, and I mean it. I feel too wretched for his company right now. But my voice is so miserable, and I guess he thinks I need something to cheer me up, cause the first kiss lands on my lips before I utter the last syllable, and I'm lost. I pull his small body on top of me. I've never could resist his kisses.

Few cycles later, feeling the star we've lighted inside our chests sending the waves of delicious burning through our frames, I forget about my troubles. My hands are stroking his back gently, his are wandering on my face and arms.

So I've let Dinobot die. So what? Bots die. One more dead Predacon in my wake.

It doesn't matter.  
It was worth it.  
Rattrap is mine again.


End file.
